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"You're staring."

"I'm observing."

"That's what you used to call it when you were hunting me."

"I was considerably less successful then."

"And now?"

"Now I know when you're keeping something from me."

His voice softened.

"Robin, are you ill?"

The concern that reached me through our bond made my heart ache.

I hadn't meant to worry him.

I'd been waiting for the right moment, although I wasn't entirely sure what that was supposed to look like.

Apparently, it looked like my husband sitting on the edge of our bed, convinced something terrible was happening.

I crossed the room.

"Give me your hand."

He did.

I placed his palm against my stomach.

Guy looked down.

Then he looked at me.

Then back at his hand.

For a man who could calculate troop movements in his head, he was taking an astonishingly long time to understand.

"Robin?"

I smiled.

"You're going to be a father."

He stopped breathing.

At least, it looked that way.

For several seconds, he simply stared at me.

"Are you certain?"

"Sefa is."

His eyes widened.

"She told me on Tuesday. Then she spent fifteen minutes explaining why I shouldn't climb trees."